Unfinished Business
by shedoc
Summary: Why doesn't Ray K like to wear his glasses?


Fraser pinched his nose and tried not to lose it right there in the car. The case he and Ray were working on was hard enough without the added complication of his father's presence. The skeletons of three young children had been found in the backyard of a house that was being renovated by its new owners. The case had been passed from Homicide to Major Crimes when the new owners of that house turned out to be friends of the Mayor.

Ray had been driven from minute one, and Fraser had put that down to the case involving children. After all, it was a cops' worst nightmare and those three little skeletons had been so pitiful, lying all jumbled together like that. His partner was a man that couldn't bear to see women or children victimised in any way - he extended his protection to them all without reservation or judgement. From the lowest strata of society to the highest, Ray did his best to take care of them - or if his care was too late, he did his best to see they got justice.

It hadn't taken long for Ray to eliminate the children's parents and move on to the neighbourhood bachelor. The case was twenty years old but the old folk in the area still remembered it 'just like it was yesterday'. The old folk were slowly being edged out by the urban renewalists - who wanted their old style homes for trendy yuppies and cocktail parties.

The bachelor in question had been a travelling salesman of some kind and the land where the children were buried had been vacant for some time. Ray had dogged this man's footsteps for the last week, uncovering a disturbing pattern of children disappearing along his sales route. Seventeen other children were gone, just like that, though the authorities had never linked his presence to the cases.

He was no longer selling, but Ray had organised a stakeout to try and gather more evidence. They were just finishing their shift now, heading for Ray's apartment in the small hours of the morning. At Ray's insistence Fraser was staying the night with him - or rather the day with him. Welsh had put in a word with Inspector Thatcher to relieve him of his duties at the Consulate.

It wasn't just the case though. His father - with the usual bad timing - had chosen to drop in on one of his visits as they were driving home from the stakeout. Fraser was trying to answer Ray and his father at the same time without letting Ray know there was a third person - or at least a third presence - in the car. Diefenbaker was doing his best to cover, interjecting comments now and then. Ray was at least used to him talking to the wolf. Unfortunately, Dief was siding with Ray in this argument and becoming increasingly annoyed with the whole situation.

Ray was gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white and his jaw was clenched - with anger? Fraser couldn't tell. The tension in the slim body beside him was building inexorably, though, and Fraser was worried that he would soon snap under the strain.

"Look!" Ray half shouted suddenly, scaring Fraser into a flinch, "Everyone just shut up! Just shut up till we get home, ok! Before I go completely unhinged!"

The silence that followed was electric, as even Robert Fraser stopped talking. He was frowning at Ray, probably thinking how rude the American was, but at least he was quiet. Fraser's head throbbed with each beat of his heart, his own tension headache making itself known with a vengeance.

They parked, got out of the car and walked into the apartment maintaining the fragile silence the whole way. Ray got behind Fraser and pushed him over to sit at the kitchen table, grabbing glasses from the cupboard and a couple of aspirin as well. Robert Fraser settled against the stove, nodding in approval as Ray filled the glasses with water from the tap and sat around the corner from Fraser.

Fraser took the pills offered him, grateful that his partner knew him well enough to take care of his needs without asking. Ray knocked back his own headache pills and reached over, gripping Fraser's wrist tightly. He took a deep breath and turned his head to the stove, making the hair on the back of Fraser's neck stand up.

"Robert, is it?" Ray asked the very surprised dead Mountie standing in his kitchen, "Look, I'm sure that Frase usually appreciates ya turning up to help him out here, but tonight I just can't take it. I've got enough on my plate without dealing with ya as well, so I'm asking, for the sake of my sanity and his, that ya come back some other time, ok?"

"You can see him?" Fraser gasped as his father shifted uneasily and Ray buried the heel of his hand in one eye, rubbing to get the headache gone. He nodded, squeezing Fraser's wrist gently.

"Maybe I can help," Robert took a challenging stance, "I may be dead, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten how to work a case."

"Dad!" Fraser snapped, "Sorry, Ray, my father…"

He stopped speaking, unable to believe that he was finally talking to someone about his father in the present tense and not trying to retract.

"Look, guys, I've got twenty dead kids in my living room. I don't think I can deal with any more right now…please…" Ray's voice carried a thin edge of hysteria. His whole body was shaking, and Fraser freed his wrist to wrap an arm around his partner, glaring at his father as the man headed for the living room.

"Oh dear god," Robert Fraser's hushed voice chilled Fraser to the core. Fraser let got of his partner, who buried his head in his arms on the tabletop, and went to stand at his fathers shoulder. What he saw out there was something that Benton was certain he never wanted to see again.

Twenty children, dressed in a variety of fashions spanning the late sixties and early seventies sat or stood in the living room, grouped around the couch. They were all staring back with sad hollow eyes, and Fraser could see through them in a way he couldn't with his father. Unable to move, Fraser returned their stare, until he heard his partner get up from the table and move towards him.

"Go ter bed, Fraser," Ray pushed past the Mountie, "Ya can have my room. Hey kiddies, wanna see some cartoons?"

Feeling as if his sanity had left him far, far behind, Fraser watched his partner settle on the couch and find one of the twenty-four hour cartoon cable channels. He watched the twenty children drift over to his partner, perching on the furniture around him, directing their gaze obediently at the TV. The two smallest crawled into his lap and Fraser saw his friend shiver at the contact, his jaw flexing before he smiled at the two little ones in reassurance.

Robert Fraser ushered his son into the other room, and Diefenbaker took the opportunity to run full pelt from the place he'd been hiding under the kitchen table to hide under the bed.

The TV was still on when Fraser emerged very reluctantly that afternoon. Diefenbaker needed to be walked and fed, though the wolf was also reluctant to go out into the main part of Ray's apartment.

Ray was alone, asleep on the couch. The channel had changed to sports and the noise wasn't penetrating Ray's sleep at all. Fraser's father had stood at the door while Fraser slept, guarding his son's rest. He was gone when Fraser woke.

Looking at the exhaustion on his partners face, Fraser wondered how long he'd been dealing with these… phenomena alone. The Mountie made a decision, wrote a quick note to Ray and slipped out of the apartment.

They took care of Diefenbaker's business first, then headed to the Consulate so Fraser could change his clothes and feed the wolf properly. Robert Fraser stayed away, and as comforting as his father's presence had been last night, Fraser hoped the man would have mercy on them all and reappear some other time. Preferably after this case was solved.

On the walk back to the apartment, Fraser picked up some groceries, intending to cook them all a very hearty meal. This latest revelation on his partner's side explained why Ray neglected himself on some cases. If the dead were… hounding… him then sleep and sustenance would be low on his list of priorities. When he let himself back into Ray's apartment the shower was running. Fraser hung the spare key back up on the hook it came from and started his dinner preparations.

Ray emerged from the bedroom eventually, coming hesitantly into the kitchen. Dief got up and fussed over him, sniffing and licking before settling down again.

"So…" Ray trailed off and Fraser offered him a smile.

"That explains why you don't wear your glasses very often," Fraser blushed a little. He'd wanted to let his partner know that it was ok, that he wasn't leaving the partnership. After the Henry Allen, the two men had become even closer. Both of them needed all the friends he could get, and there was genuine warmth between them. They were truly a duet, but up until now, Fraser had always thought of himself as the 'freak' in the partnership.

"Yeah," Ray nodded, "I've been seeing things all my life, Frase. Sometimes the blur is the most comforting thing in the world."

He toyed with their abandoned water glasses and shot Fraser a few looks as the Mountie continued with his food preparation, at home in the apartment and its kitchen. Fraser took a deep breath and turned once the pots were on the stove.

"Ray, I am… honoured that you've let me see this side of you. I want to help you, in whatever way I can. For the last few years I thought my father's appearances were merely my own subconscious need projected onto a familiar form. I have questioned my own sanity more than once…"

Ray jumped up and hugged him, wrapping lean arms around his friend and partner and rocking them back and forth a little in an attempt to comfort them both. Fraser returned the hug gratefully. The man in his arms was not afraid to reach out to others, something the Canadian was thankful for. If not for Ray, the only people who touched Fraser were the strangers he came into casual contact with during the day, and the criminals he helped arrest. Ray offered him the warmth of friendship and love.

"Yer not nuts," Ray muttered, "Or if ya are, I've been nuts longer."

"Understood," Fraser squeezed, swaying easily with his partner until they were nearly dancing. Ray let go eventually, reluctance dragging at his wrists. He smiled at Fraser a little and went to sit down at the table again, petting Diefenbaker when the wolf went to sit with him.

"So here's the deal," Ray looked over at Fraser, his soul bare for the Mountie to see, "Sometimes when a person dies, dey got unfinished business. Dey hang around until whatever it is, is finished. It might be waiting to see a loved one live after an accident, or justice for their death, but whatever it is, dey hangs around. Sometimes dey hangs around for a long time. I started seeing 'em when I nearly died that time I got pneumonia. Mum and Dad thought I was talking to imaginary friends for a while, but den I got old enough to know that I should shut up about it all, or they'd drag me to a shrink."

"So they come to you to finish their business for them," Fraser surmised. Ray nodded and shrugged.

"Dey don't always," he muttered, "Dey don't always know dat I can see them. And sometimes someone or something tells them to come to me. It's one of the things that made me want to be a cop. I'd be able to do something about it without being harassed. The people at the 1-8 call me Freaky Kowalski 'cos sometimes my hunches are really what the ghosts tell me."

"But you don't always see ghosts," Fraser frowned, and Ray grinned at him, delighted that his partner understood what he was trying to say. There was also a sizable chunk of relief mixed in there - Fraser wasn't assuming he couldn't do his job without spiritual assistance.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I made Detective 'cos I got the skills, not 'cos some ghost solves my work for me."

"Understood," Fraser nodded and Ray relaxed a little, leaning back in his chair, his hands constantly moving in Dief's fur. The wolf, Fraser noted, was about to bliss out at the prolonged petting.

"I figure you saw the kiddies last night 'cos yer dad was here. And before ya ask, I don't know what his business here is. If he hasn't told ya yet, then it's likely he won't at all. Some ghosts are…kinda happy to stay," Ray offered his partner a little shrug and Fraser nodded acceptance before turning to check on dinner. He came and sat opposite the Detective and reached over to pull one of the thin hands into his.

"The comfort you offered those children last night Ray…my god, that was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It must have been hard…"

Ray's fingers tightened in his and his partner looked down at the table.

"Their touch is so cold and clammy. I don't let adults touch me, but kids…they're so lost…"

The hitch in his breathing had Fraser kneeling beside him, arms wrapped around the slender man, shushing and crooning mindlessly as he offered solace while Ray revealed the final burden.

"Promise to let me help?"

The whispered question was breathed in his ear and Ray nodded, sniffling miserably and clinging to the comfort offered, feeling as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

"You look like shit Vecchio," Harding Welsh looked at the blonde Detective currently slumped in his visitors chair. Ray grinned at his boss, a flash of the old energy peeking through the tired eyes and slumping body.

"Thanks, lieu. I always knew I could count on ya when I start my career as one of the beautiful people," he sassed back, sipping the strong coffee clutched in his hands. This case was wearing on him, but he told himself sternly it was no worse than what the others were going through.

"Did you at least eat something today?" Welsh scowled and glanced over at Fraser. He wasn't reassured when the Mountie proved to look a little worn around the edges himself.

"Yeah, Frase fed me," Ray rolled his eyes, "An' I put on clean underwear before I went out too, mother."

Fraser was always astonished that the Lieutenant didn't protest more at the cavalier attitude Ray often showed his boss. Inspector Thatcher would be highly incensed by now, heading towards apoplectic. The Lieutenant chose to deal with insubordination very differently. In this instance, Welsh just growled under his breath and Ray sat up straighter, launching into the case, explaining what they had and what he thought they should do next.

Welsh also gave them the day shifts report - and it was disturbing news. Their suspect had travelled around the city today, stopping in several ballparks and sports fields to watch children playing. Ray got up and paced at that, postulating that their man was about to start up again. The media had gotten hold of the story of course, and he would recognise his own work.

Welsh reminded his Detective rather forcefully that they weren't about to let that happen and Ray shook his head like he had a bee in his ear. He opened his mouth, about to come back with a blistering retort that would probably get him reprimanded if not suspended when he froze in place, his face draining of all colour so quickly that Fraser thought he was about to faint.

"Oh shit!" Ray yelped and leapt for the phone, calling the unit on surveillance, telling them to get to the house and confirm the suspects' presence. Whatever they heard in his voice compelled them to follow his instructions and minutes later they were reporting the house was empty - the suspect gone. They had not seen him leave - they had no idea what his lead-time was.

Ray slammed the phone down so hard the casing cracked and he grabbed the file from Welsh's desk, running hard for the door, Fraser a breath behind him. Welsh shouted after them, demanding they stay in touch and Fraser called a hurried acknowledgement over his shoulder.

In the car park Ray threw the keys to the GTO to Fraser. Understanding shot through the Mountie. The children were back and telling Ray as best they could where their killer was, where the next victim was. Fraser caught the keys and prepared to drive, knowing that his usual careful ways were about to be discarded if it meant getting Ray and the frightened ghosts to where they needed to be sooner.

Ray slapped the emergency lights on and shuddered, his face loosing all colour for a moment. Fraser reached over and touched his friends shoulder hesitantly and Ray took a deep breath, nodding once in acknowledgement. Fraser slipped the car into gear and headed out into the early evening traffic.

"He's taken a boy from the park over on West and Ninth," Ray told him, hunched over the file, "Head for there first - when we get closer the kids can locate him more easily."

"Understood," Fraser sent the car weaving in and out of traffic, signalling as much as he could to avoid accidents. The interior of the car was freezing cold, and their breath was misting in the air, despite the fact that Fraser had slapped the heater on full.

Ray moaned and shuddered again, breathing heavily and whispering words of comfort to the unseen. Fraser was tingling all over and not in a pleasant way. The atmosphere in the car was becoming unbearable. He actually cried out in surprise when Ray's freezing cold hand landed on his leg. The Detective latched onto the denim desperately, needing to feel that Fraser was solid and alive. Fraser risked dropping his hand to cover Ray's for a moment and then put it back on the steering wheel. They screeched to a halt outside the park and Ray hunched over the file.

"Go straight ahead," the command was strained and Fraser eased the car forward, speeding up until Ray's grip on his thigh loosened a little. At this speed they would be able to make any turns with a bit of warning, though it would take all of Fraser's skill to do so safely. He was very relieved that he had left Diefenbaker at Ray's apartment - the wolf could have been injured by the sudden stops and turns.

Ray kept up the directions, shivering constantly. They were headed through the back roads that surrounded the park, away from the urban sprawl and into the light industrial area. Fraser stopped when Ray told him to and flinched as his partner exploded into movement, leaping from the car and heading full speed towards a high wooden fence. Fraser scrambled to follow him, watching as the slender man hit the fence full out, up and over before Fraser could do more than shout.

The Mountie followed him moments later, landing easily in time to see Ray disappear around the corner of an old cargo container. When he rounded the same corner moments later he came upon a tense scene. Ray had his gun out and pointed at their suspect, who was twisting the arms of a crying boy.

"I said, let him go," Ray's voice was eerily still and Fraser saw their man shiver a little, then let go. The boy fell and then scrambled forward, heading straight for Ray. Fraser intercepted him quickly, not wanting to risk the Detectives line of fire. He held the boy close, watching intently as Ray mirandised their criminal, got him to lie face down to be cuffed, and then called for backup.

Somehow, a part of Fraser knew that it wasn't over yet.

The station was a madhouse. Media crews thronged the lobby and streets outside. Inside, the patrol officers and Detectives all found a reason to come up to the bullpen to try and get a look at their catch.

Stella Kowalski was there in her official capacity, as was the suspect's lawyer. Lieutenant Welsh decided that he would sit in on the interview with Ray, and Stella jostled Fraser at the observation window for a better view. The Mountie just glared at her, in no mood for her petty selfishness today.

There was a soft touch to his shoulder, and suddenly Robert Fraser was standing beside him. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to cry out or jump in response. Not because he was now afraid of his father, but because of what he could now see inside the interrogation room. All twenty children were clustered around his partner, who was seated at the table with the lawyer and their suspect.

Ray had a large stack of files in front of him and the lawyer was eying him suspiciously. Fraser didn't blame the man - Ray's pallor and tension made him look awful. Welsh was standing in the corner behind the lawyer, looking at his Detective intently. Ray straightened up and the tallest ghost in the room put the smallest in his lap. It was a little boy who reached up and whispered in Ray's ear.

"Benjamin Foster," Ray picked up the top file and looked at the bachelor sitting opposite him. Before the lawyer could do more than frown and open his mouth his client reeled off an address that Ray wrote on the top of the file. The little boy in his lap kissed his cheek and slowly faded away.

This was repeated again and again. Some of the ghosts sat in Ray's lap to tell him their name; others put an arm around his shoulders or took his free hand. After each address - with the lawyer protesting vehemently that his client should remain silent - the ghost would kiss Ray goodbye and fade away.

"They're going to a wonderful place, son," Robert said softly, "He's given them the peace they seek."

'But it's killing him!' Fraser wanted to yell in protest. Ray was looking…diminished. The man that had always been so energetic and somehow larger than life was slowly shrinking before his eyes.

"So, just so we're clear on what all this means," Ray's voice was hoarse as the final child faded away, "The addresses you've been giving me are…"

"Don't answer that!" the lawyer barked.

"The location of their bodies…you'll find some very naughty children there. You found my last three, of course. Not long after them I met a wonderful woman and didn't need to punish the children any more."

"Your records indicate you never married," Ray forced the words out past stiff lips, "May I ask why you stopped?"

"She took all my time and energy. I didn't need to go looking any more. Of course, she was already married, but that didn't matter."

"Why did you kill those twenty children?" was Ray's next question. The lawyer was trying to shut his client up and end the interrogation, but no one was paying the slightest bit of attention to him. Stella was leaning forward eagerly, hoping for a confession that would stick. Of course, if the bodies were where he said they were it wouldn't matter if he recanted later.

"They were brats," the man spat, something indescribably ugly and evil in his eyes, "You don't understand what it was like. To most of the women I was a welcome change to their routine. All they had was house and home…waiting for some dumb husband to come back from work and maybe relieve the pressure for a night. But me, I was the best lover they'd ever have. I made a good living off it - they'd buy my products and I'd sweeten the deal for them in bed."

"The children…" Ray reminded him, gripping the edge of the table to stay upright. Robert Fraser was muttering imprecations under his breath and Fraser had a hand on the window, trying to send his support to his partner. Welsh had his hands balled deep in his trouser pockets, his eyes riveted to the people and the drama before him.

"I must insist…!" the lawyer shouted, but his client spoke anyway.

"The children were in the way - they were rude to their mothers and stopped me giving those women what they wanted most. They had to go."

"What about the boy tonight?" Ray pressed on, "Why take him?"

"My lover died a few months ago," the bachelor shrugged, "And the media stirred up the old feelings for me with their reports. I saw his mother - just like those housewives I once had - and she came to get him from the park. So when he swore at her and pushed her away I knew he had to be punished. His mother left him at the park and I grabbed him. I was going to beat some manners into him - just like the others."

Ray leaned back, exhaustion, revulsion and pity writ large across his face. Welsh took over then, charging the man and seeing to the rest of the details, the lawyer being as obstructionist as he could be, though even he must have figured out it was hopeless for his client.

Robert Fraser stepped in front of his son as the bachelor was led away, offering a sort of protection. It was a futile gesture, but one motivated by love. Fraser ignored the man in favour of going to his partner. Welsh had a hand on Ray's shoulder, but as soon as Fraser entered the slender Detective was out of his seat and wrapped in his partners sheltering embrace.

Stella gaped and was about to comment when Welsh shook his head significantly. He stepped forward and petted Ray on the shoulder gently.

"Take him home, Constable. I don't want to see him until Monday," Welsh said softly, "Well done, Ray. It's all over now."

Ray nodded, his face pressed into Fraser's neck, the shaking lessening a little as the Mountie's warmth and strength soothed him.

Fraser got the funny feeling that Welsh had some idea of what had just really happened here. He pushed the thought aside, concentrating instead on the man in his arms. He was relieved that his father had gone again - the man had some sense of propriety after all.

All Fraser could do now was take his partner home and stay with him. There was only one small problem. Ray would not let go. All the way out of the station, in the car, walking up to the apartment and once inside, Ray maintained contact with Fraser in some way.

The people at the station were used to the way the new Vecchio would throw an arm around a comrade from time to time, so they didn't get too many funny looks there. In the car the Detective threw his seatbelt off to plaster himself against Fraser's side as the Mountie drove through the gathering dawn. On the way up the stairs they held hands, their knuckles white with the grip.

Once inside, Fraser managed to take their coats and Ray's gun off and hang them in the hall closet while Ray hung onto him. Diefenbaker was in need of a walk, but Fraser knew that Ray was in no condition right now to go out again or to be alone. The wolf seemed to understand that, and gave the phone several meaningful glances before Fraser caught on and called Turnbull. He arranged to leave Ray's front door unlocked and Turnbull agreed to lock it when he had collected the wolf.

Fraser manhandled Ray into the bedroom, got them both stripped down to their underwear and into the bed he'd slept in only twelve hours ago. Ray climbed on top of his partner, making tiny sounds of distress and Fraser held him tightly, feeling so helpless and useless. Ray was shaking again, his body still so cold. Hot tears ran across the place where Fraser's neck and shoulder met.

Unsure of what to do to help, Fraser pulled out a very old, distant memory of his childhood. He rocked a little, just as his mother had one done, and began to sing, crooning to his partner. His hands rubbed warming circles on Ray's back and he tangled their legs together, holding the man as close as he possibly could.

Eventually they slept.

Fraser woke with a dilemma. At some time during their rest, Ray had slid to the side, shifting so his head rested on one shoulder and his arm draped over Fraser's chest. That hand was tucked under Fraser's shoulder and the other had threaded itself into Fraser's hair. The Detective's thigh was pressed against Fraser's very happy cock, which was standing up and begging for more.

Fraser and his cock had - metaphorically of course - debated their celibacy before. Fraser had found that he could have any partner he wished for, if he had only asked them. He was not as oblivious to the women - and on a few occasions, men - who made passes at him, as he liked people to think. Francesca Vecchio was a major source of embarrassment for him - he was not impervious to her charms, but knew at the same time that any relationship between them would be fleeting at the very least.

Fraser, quite simply, didn't 'do casual'. His heart and soul needed to be as attracted as his body. Unfortunately, his heart and soul seemed very attracted to Ray Kowalski. Therein lay the rub. Ray was a) straight, b) protecting Ray Vecchio and c) still very much in love with his wife. The fact that the man was a loose bundle of muscle in his arms, clinging to his skin so sweetly it hurt, had nothing to do with it.

Ray stirred, his thigh brushing along Fraser's length in a light tease that had him seeing stars.

"Ben," Ray mumbled, and snuggled in again, his fingers massaging Benton's scalp. Fraser whimpered a little and tried to get free. He didn't want to ruin the most important friendship of his life by coming all over his partner. The man would simply freak - and probably kick him in the head to boot. It didn't work, Ray lifted his head from Fraser's shoulders, eyes slit open in a grumpy scowl that looked all the more endearing for the scruffy look it was set in.

"Do ya mind? I wanna get some sleep here," he grumped and Fraser squirmed a little more to get loose, bighting his lip when that teasing thigh rode his every move. His cock went from hard and happy to throbbing and eager.

"That's the idea," Fraser said in a tight voice, "If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you to your rest."

Ray sighed and squirmed on top of the Mountie, pressing himself firmly to the warm, muscular body. Fraser froze, painfully aware that Ray couldn't miss his arousal. Ray threaded his other hand into Fraser's hair and sighed happily.

"Look, I know yer don't want to jeopardise our missing friend," that was their code for Ray Vecchio, "An' I tried to make it easy on yer - tried not to need ya so much. But Benton buddy, this ain't workin' any more. Now that ya know all about me, I can't just let this thing between us slide."

"Are you saying that you've been aware of my attraction?" Fraser gasped, shocked. Unfortunately the shock only got his cock more excited and Ray looked down between them in astonishment for a moment.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I know yer don't do casual - but ya gotta know that I don't either. Dis isn't me looking for a little connection after a bad case, dis is me tellin' ya I love ya, and I want more of ya, not less. Forever, if ya can."

Fraser felt tears prick his eyes and he stopped trying to get out from under, relaxing instead and wrapping his arms and legs tenderly around the man on top of him. Ray gave him a beautiful shy smile and leaned down to kiss him, brushing their lips together and then swiping his tongue shyly over Fraser's bottom lip.

"Forever," Fraser nodded and watched in awe as the joy spread through Ray's whole face and on to his body. The slender man simply lit up and they sealed the bargain with a deep and tender kiss.

On Monday Welsh called Fraser into his office while Ray went through his notes and the case with Stella. So far they'd found graves at each address they'd been given.

"You must have seen some pretty strange things on this case," Welsh said softly, looking out at the bullpen where Ray was working.

"Some," Fraser agreed, looking at his lover. They'd only got out of bed to eat and answer the call of nature for the last three days. Diefenbaker had greeted him without reproach at the Consulate this morning, enquiring after their pack mate anxiously. He was sitting under Ray's desk at the moment, forgoing the lure of junk food to show his support.

"When I first met Ray, he told me that sometimes he sees things. That was all I could get out of him. I knew from his last psyche profile he wasn't a nut, not even considered unstable, so I put it down to nerves. But on Thursday night…well, I've never seen a psychic work like that before. I'm just glad he's working with us."

Fraser nodded, looking over at the Lieutenant. In his minds eye he could just see the circumstances of that admission. Ray would have been slightly red, and looking anywhere but at Welsh, making the admission gruffly.

"Was he ok on Friday?" Welsh didn't look away from his view and Fraser hid a smile. The Lieutenant was worried in his own way.

"He slept a lot," Fraser decided that the highly edited highlights would have to suffice, "We spent the weekend together, resting. There were no further…problems."

Except for the debate late Saturday night on who bottomed first. Turns out Ray had never tried it and Fraser preferred it. They'd only left the apartment for Diefenbaker's sake, and even then they'd walked so close they could touch discreetly.

"Excellent," Welsh nodded, "I've been over the files myself to ensure the paper trail is crystal clear. That maniac won't be seeing the light of day for a very long time."

It was a dismissal and Fraser got up, heading out to stand at his lovers side, where he belonged.

-end-


End file.
